Shattered Star
by Kahnage
Summary: Since the death of the Septim family, Tamriel has been thrown into a state of confusion where the corrupt govenors of state are attempting to use fear to regain control by targeting mages as the new enemy of the people. Hunting them to near extinction.
1. Prelude

Prelude

_Since the death of the Septim family the realms of Tamriel have been thrown into a state of confusion with no real ruler anymore. Using this tragic turn of events to their advantage the governors of state have forced their way into control and seek to guide the people into a new age where religion is the only answer. Their blind faith in their religion has lead them to believe that the true evil in the world are those who practise and teach the ancient arts of the Arcane._

_There was once a time when those who practised the arts of the arcane were viewed as saviours. The once highly respected Mage's Guild is now nothing more than a former memory forced underground by the radical beliefs of New Tamriel. Now blamed for the countless wrongs of the past and present, the Mages and their kin have been forced into hiding treated like diseased wretched monsters. Hunted by Common people and state police they have been left with nowhere to hide, no refuge to call their own anymore, forced to hide in mountains and caves and simply pray that they are never found. _

_A prayer that is likely to never be heard. The governors established a force with which to seek out and eradicate all Mage kind from the realms of Tamriel. The Shattered Star. A handpicked force of zealous knights, seemingly lead by the divine light of the Gods themselves. An army unlike any the realms of Tamriel had seen before, effectively a devastation squad sent out to capture and kill anyone caught or thought to be practising the arcane arts. Their armour forged with steel and the newly discovered Dark Light ore, a naturally formed mineral that contains a natural resistance to magic meaning that the armour of the Shattered Star is near impervious to the constant barrages of the mages they face. _

_A world gone mad and torn apart by radical beliefs...Tamriel's future is uncertain._


	2. Chapter 1

**The Shattered Star**

Chapter 1

The Red March

A small fort stood atop a hill overlooking the valley constructed mainly of wood and stone. Long since abandoned by its originally owners it had since become the home of a small group of mages who were seeking refuge from their persecution, they knew all along that eventually they would be discovered but had hoped that perhaps a fortified location would lend them an advantage in the coming days. They had bolstered their defences with the use of their own abilities, casting a thick cold fog across their haven and the surrounding valley. Two men stood at the top of one of the walls overlooking the fog drenched fields that lay in the valley, both showing clear signs of concern and worry in their expression. One had long black hair tied back in a tail, dressed in fine looking deep blue robes, the kind of robes that would be expected by a formal diplomat. He gripped a staff in one hand while nervously tugging at the tassels on his golden silk rope belt. His partner was slightly taller and much older, and ancient looking man with long white hair and a bushy thick white beard. His robes were a deep blue with an intricately embroiled gold stitched pattern, he to held his grip harshly on a staff as he scowled into the surrounding fog. The shorter of the two finally broke the cold silence as he broke his gaze from the valley.

"It is only a matter of time before they find us, Azrael." The younger mage looked at Azrael with an obvious sense of concern in his words.

"There is no where we can run that is truly safe from them...They will grant you reprieve if you denounce your teachings young Luccas." He shook his head slowly as he struggled with the situation in his own thoughts.

"I will never denounce my teachings! We will stand by you to the very end!" Scolded Luccas as he dug the tip of his staff into the wooden floor he was stood on. Azrael gave a small smile to Luccas, an attempt to quench the fear he could sense in his partner, but he himself struggled to give solace to those around him when he himself feared what lay ahead for them. He fixed his gaze back out into the distance as he peered absently into the moons gentle glow as if trying to find some kind of peace in it. They pair fell back into a cold silence.

Deep in the fog lurked the horse mounted army of the Shattered Star. They marched in perfect symmetry both horse and soldier alike clad in the white armour of their order trimmed beautifully with gold lining, topped with the brilliant red cloak draped across one shoulder hanging elegantly down the side. Their faces completely covered by the full face helmet carved into the image of an emotionless face, lined with a gold plume of solid metal. Each knight armed with a perfect long sword hanging effortlessly at his side, the hilt forged into the shape of a gold dragons head as etchings of flame litter the lower portions of the blade. Accompanying these mounted soldiers were the monstrous war machines that were feared by both Mages and Common people alike, huge battering rams and ballisters dragged through the battlefield by the frail shackled slaves of the Shattered Star. Large horse drawn cages forged from pure steel and dark light followed close by, the final place for those who chose to surrender over the choice of death. Scattered throughout this perfect holy army were the banners of the order, an ivory and maroon backdrop decorated again with golden stitching in the image of an eye. The chorus of noise tore through the silence of the cold fog. The orders barked from Captains joint by the clamouring noise of armour rattling with the march, followed by the soul shattering groans of the war machines as they were forced through the thick mud. At the head of the march rode the General, his look exactly the same as his brethren all except for gold crown crafted into his helmet. He was joined by another soldier who rode up alongside him.

"My lord, the forward scouts have located the stronghold to the East." The knight bowed his head as he spoke.

"Were you given any indication of numbers?" Responded the General as he nodded his head in return.

"Reports suggest that there are fifty maybe sixty." Again the knight bowed his head in respect to his superior.

"Very well, return to your position." With this the knight bowed his head with one last show of respect to his General as he turned tail and rode back off to his place. Meanwhile, the General gazed up at the night sky observing the gentle glow of the moon as it attempted to pierce the seemingly unending fog.

To the mages in the stronghold it seemed as if an eternity had passed. Each one of them knew that this was the night they must fight; they knew that time drew nearer with every passing moment yet it seemed to never arrive. There demeanour of the fort was a mixture of fear and subtle confidence. It was clear that there were those who had been running and fighting for many years now and were used to what they would face on this night. But on the other side there were those who were new to running and fighting, some of whom had never seen the Shattered Star and only heard stories of them. Azrael still stood atop the wall gazing out across the valley, his expression stone like as he confided in his own thoughts working his way through the arranged strategies. He turned to face down into the courtyard where the majority of the little resistance stood nervously awaiting their destiny. His voice was deep and powerful, his words strong and confident never betraying the fear and doubt he was feeling inside.

"We have stood together for many moons my friends. Some of us have fought side by side for years gone by, others have newly joined us...To you, I cannot promise that you will make it out alive. I cannot give that promise to anyone within these walls, not even myself. The enemy that approaches is like none other of this world or the next, the beasts of Oblivion fear them and their name. The enemy holds no fear, lead by their unyielding faith in their Gods, each prepared for death...It is for this reason that their attack with be unrelenting, but we must be strong and stand united against them. Who can I rely on to stand with me on this night?" The high mage raised his staff in a triumphant shout as he raised his forced spirits; his flock had now descended into cheers and battle cries.

With his final words Azrael spun and focused his attention back on the valley as the others scurried around and began preparing themselves for the coming battle. While some moved large wooden beams to help hold the gates shut and secure any potential weak points, others were erecting ramparts in key location just behind the gates forming small spiked blockades. A few mages had reached the tops of the watch towers and were busy casting other incantations and hexes on the surrounding areas, rain began to lash down onto the ground turning it to a slippery mass of mud and streams as a carpet of explosive glyphs rained down onto the grounds sinking into it concealing themselves. Thick storm clouds began to roll in as the rain became more intense drenching the land around the fort turning it into a treacherous landscape. At that moment the war horns of the marching hoards of the Shattered Star bellowed through the fog as slowly the glows from torchlight's began to appear on the horizon. Eventually the sound was joined by the sinister unveiling of the army finally coming into view as it cut its way through the fog, much too far away to make out exact numbers as the large mass came to an abrupt halt. Many of the mages had climbed the walls to inspect their enemy, the gasps of shock and horror as the younger members were finally greeted by the sight of the realms holy army. The war horns had come to a stop as the mass just remained silent on the horizon, until suddenly the delayed thud of a ballister being fired broke the eerie silence of the army. The huge razor edged torpedo literally screamed through the air as it crashed into the ground before the large door of the fort, chained to the large wooden shaft of the torpedo were the mutilated bodies of expendable slaves to the order, their cries designed to shatter the moral of the enemy as they were forced to watch their kin writhe in pain.

"Surrender and they will let you go free!" Screamed one of the chained slaves.

It was clear that this approach was working to its intended purpose as a number of the mages had broken rank and fallen back to the courtyard in fear and to try and escape the blood curdling screams. Azrael raised his hand and bellowed to his people, his voice like thunder.

"Stand strong my friends! We must not surrender!"

"We cannot dare stand against such an enemy! Azrael we must surrender if we are to survive!" Responded a nearby mage who was quivering with fear.

Azrael had turned his attention back towards the army that faced them who had begun to move now finally coming into plain sight. After what felt to them like another eternity the Shattered Star had reached the fort and were standing at just a safe enough distance so not to trigger any of the traps. The General lifted a scroll from his side and unrolled it holding it in front of him as he roared through the sound of the rain.

"By order of the Governors of Tamriel, all believed to be practising the arcane arts are to surrender immediately or face the punishment of death!" The General filled his words with a cold confidence and a tone of authority as he awaited a response.

Azrael shook his head slowly to himself as he pointed to the torpedo lined with the bodies of slaves, some still partially alive but others had given their last breath by now.

"If we surrender...This is how we are to end our days, attached to one of you barbaric war machines and used as an implement of fear used against the innocent...If we are to choose death, then we shall die on this night fighting for what we believe in. Tell me General...Does your Gods have a place reserved for you in their presence for the crimes that you commit?" His voice had fallen cold and was now filled with rage, without any warning he cast a ball of pure flame at the General incinerating the scroll in his hands to nothing more than cinders and ashes.

The General bowed his head in a sarcastic gesture of respect to the old man as he turned his attention to the soldier at his side and nodded once to which the soldier turned his horse and raised his fist high in the air sending a signal as the army began to split into two making way for another group of shackled slaves who were herded along by a single knight wielding a whip. He pushed them forward until they were on the edge of the make shift mine field and then with one foul crack of his metal studded whip pushed them over that safety line as the first slave was greeted by a glyph detonating on impact turning him to no more than a fine mist. This sight alone was enough to send other slaves into a panic as they attempted to double back on themselves only to be met by the scream of the horse as it reared up onto its hind legs forcing them back into the field as more explosion went off wiping out more of them, the field was filled with sounds of anguished screams and explosions.. Both the slaves and the mages were struck with shock at what they were witnessing, this apparent holy army were monsters in their own right. Once the final slave had met their fate in a flurry of tears and cries for forgiveness the next wave moved in, this time a group of slaves dragging a huge battering dragon faced battering ram into place.

"This is your final warning Mage...Surrender now or be stricken from this world!" Roared the General as his horse stamped its hoof and snorted.

"Well then General...It seems you will need to strike us from this world." Azrael seemed rather calm about the whole situation; he had become desensitized to these things throughout his years.

"So be it...May the Gods have mercy upon your soul...For we shall have none." He bowed his head to the mage who returned the gesture in what was some kind of twisted semblance of respect between leaders.

With this final passing of words the battering ram began to groan into life as yet again the slaves were forced pull the ropes, their sobs filled the air as they knew they were responsible for the deaths that would occur on that night. Every thud of the battering ram caused splinters of wood to crumble as the gate began to weaken. Meanwhile the Shattered Star continued to stand at their safe distance until the gate had fallen, neither side speaking just watching and waiting. Finally the gate burst open spurring the two sides into life, no sooner had the last piece of shattered wood the battle erupted into life as the mages began to frantically throw whatever magical essence they could conjure at the mounted knights of the Shattered Star began to flood into the fort like a plague. The sounds of balls of magical essence screaming their way through the air exploding on impact and the savage battle cries of the knights rang through the air echoing throughout the valley as the battled raged on within the fort. A trembling woman stood on a stairway casting a volley of burning fire into the fray as she screamed with both fear and vigour, this constant flurry attracted the attention of a group of nearby knights who charged her dragging her from the stairs and casting her into the puddles of murky water and blood on the floor. Before she was able to get back to her feet or at least attempt to escape she was stopped by a sudden boot to the side of the head as the knights each plunged their swords into her stomach as she continued to scream in pain sobbing endlessly as her life slowly slipped away. Elsewhere on the blooded battlefield Azrael was swinging his staff with expert precision and power knocking soldiers to the ground, he jabbed a charging knight in the throat with the tip of his staff before crouching and slamming his palm onto the ground producing a circle of fire engulfing the fallen soldiers that surrounded him, their anguished screams as they began to bolt around drenched in fire rang like the sweet dawn chorus to his ears. The General caught sight of this as he began to hastily walk through the battle towards the elderly mage but was stopped as from out of nowhere he was struck by a plank of wood from behind, spinning on he's heels he caught the gaze of another trembling mage who was now partially cowering before him.

"Please...Forgive me!" Screamed the man as he raised his hands in defeat.

The General had none of it as her grabbed the trembling man by the throat throwing him to the ground and placing his foot on his chest. The man's tearful cries for mercy caught no sign of remorse from the General as he raised his steel clad boot bringing it down repeatedly stamping on his chest shattering bone and tearing flesh. In a moment of pure blood lust and rage he swung his mighty blade in a crescent moon motion as he spun around again to face the old mage, his sword met the flesh of a fleeing child severing his arm as his blood curdling scream caught the attention of almost the entire battlefield. Azrael, now enthralled with anger unleashed a wave of fire directed towards the General who dropped to his knee and covered himself with his cloak, once the fire had subsided he ran at the elderly mage knocking him flying through the air with his sheer weight and power behind his tackle standing above the mage and lowered the tip of his blade running it down the side of his face and laying it to rest on the throat of his fallen enemy.

"Tell your people to surrender old man and I may consider granting them forgiveness." The Generals voice was harsh and cold as he pressed the tip into the neck.

"We would rather die than surrender...You...You are the real monster here." Azrael snapped his words as he bore his teeth, he knew they had been defeated and he had expected it to end this way.

It had been a fierce battle and both sides had lost soldiers, but none had tasted defeat quite like mages had. They battlefield lay littered with the tattered and torn bodies of both mage and knight, some still clinging feebly onto life while others were so far gone that even Oblivion itself had no use for them now. The fires of arcane explosion also scattered this barren field of death as what remained of the mages were rounded up into rows in the courtyard and forced onto their knees. The General marched Azrael out onto the wall of the fort so that he could clearly see the entire courtyard.

"Is this the life you want for your people mage?" The General had a rather persuasive tone to his voice, as if trying to sway the decision of the old man.

"Is this the life you want for your people General?" Azrael peered searchingly at the General trying to see through the eye slits in the helmet almost trying to connect to the person inside the armour and not just the symbolic mask he had become.

The General responded with a sneer as he knocked the old man to his knees, much to the disdain of the prisoners who let out a gasp. He nodded to his own soldiers who were quick to move into place as they surrounded the courtyard and those in it.

"You are being given one final chance at redemption. Your crimes can be forgiven, repent the sins of you former ways. This man here cannot save you, he is nothing more than a wretched cheat sent by the shadows themselves to corrupt you...On your knees here and now repent and you shall be cleansed!" The General paced his perch as he shouted down to the prisoners.

A few of the prisoners nodded in agreement as they were more than eager to repent their ways if it meant they would be given a chance at freedom. Those who surrendered were quickly shackled and cast into the large iron cages that lay by the sides, the confused murmurs of those who had surrendered began to rise as they were eventually removed from the courtyard to join the army outside. Those who remained were rounded up into a tight nit group and shackled in the centre as the General began to drag the old mage to join his people. Turning on his heels he began to leave the courtyard stopping just as he was about to exit the fort.

"Burn this wretched place to the ground commander." The General nodded to one of the soldiers by his side as he left the fort.

As he left the fort the anguished screams of the remaining prisoners began to rise into the night as they had become aware the shackles were lined with Dark Light and thus stopping them from casting any form of magic and were powerless to stop the approaching flames. Azrael lowered his head and shut his eyes tightly as he allowed one final tear to escape him before the fires finally reached him and his people.


	3. Chapter 2

**The Shattered Star**

Chapter 2

Lines In The Sand

The bells of the Imperial City rang sombrely through the cold winds of the surrounding hills. The winter months had brought in a truly bitter chill with them this time, so much so that the surrounding waters of Lake Rumare had all but frozen still. The heatless shafts of light littered small portions of dew covered grass as the sun tried feebly to push through the thick blanket of cloud that converged above the lands. This tragic cold morning was no reason to call stop to the work that must be done as the citizens of the Imperial City began their preparation for the day's works. Store owners setting up their wares and placing the billboards on the shop front to hopefully attract some business. By the docks sailors hurried themselves as they readied the final crates and supplied that they needed for their journeys. The sounds of horns echoed through the city streets signifying the change in guard as the weary night shift slumped off for rest as they changed hands with fresh morning guard.

"Any activity?" Questioned one of the morning guards. His armour was is pristine condition, steel plates decorated with the symbols of the city. Although a guard by duty, his position was more of decoration and reassurance as opposed to one of authority.

"A wretched rat felt it necessary to remove from me the ownership of some bread...Other than that...Nothing to report." Jeered the night guardsmen as he began to trudge off to the guard's beds chamber.

"Rest well, friend." The guardsmen laughed as he patted his tired companion on the shoulder before assuming his position.

Further into the middle rings of the city the gatherings of official statesmen and governors drew nearer as they prepared for their business. These portions of the city were a fine visage of upper class nature as those seen here dressed only in the finest and richest of robes, decorated with regalia from their respective realms. Even the guards here were graced with the pleasure of more prestige armour, plastered with gold trims and tassels another case of ornamental soldiers placed here mainly for the citizens reassurance instead of the necessity to fill the city with police. The deafening ringing of the bells finally came to a halt as the masses of envoys and statesmen began to gather into the chambers of the central tower in the Imperial City.

The confines of the tower were as to be expected, the walls lined with tapestries made from the rarest of silks depicting stories of heroes and portraits honouring former emperors. The central lobby was the starting place is this almost labyrinth like structure. The stair case in the centre of the lobby lead up to the main governor's chamber, unlike the other paths of the lobby this staircase was granted a group of at least five soldiers lead by a single Shattered Star elite, changed with the protection of the main council chamber that lay at the top of those stairs. For most all they ever saw of that chamber was the two huge oak doors carved with intricate patterns.

The council chamber was split into ten separate raised sections, one for each of the nine different realms of Tamriel and one slightly higher raised platform for the Council Peacekeeper. His duty was strictly one of coordination, designed only to keep order and control of the chamber should the debates become more intense. The room soon filled with the noise of gathering governors, each bringing with them four other statesmen for support. Moments passed before the Peacekeeper stood raising his hands and clapping three times to attract attention, his huge hands caused the noise that could only be compared to an explosion in the echoes of the hall.

"If you will, gentlemen. Please take your seats we have much to discuss." His voice was full of stern authority. He was a short man, balding in his age. His expression alone showed just how serious he took his job, like a stone statue.

The other men knew not to tempt the wrath of this particular Peacekeeper as they all took their seats in silence only sharing the briefest of whispers. The Nord of Skyrim in particular despised this kind of treatment, a race that didn't take kindly to being pushed around by smaller races as they sat there whispering nothing but harsh insult in their native tongue.

"Forgive me, but does something bother you..._Gentlemen?" _The Peacekeeper looked down his nose at the Nord as he spoke raising one of his eyebrows inquisitively.

The only response he was able to rouse from the beasts of the North was a simple yet effective grunt of disdain.

"As I suspected...Now...Onto the first order of business...Does anyone have any reports on the recent activities of Mage kind?" He scanned the room with his cold gaze.

Laven Trith, one of the Dunmer of the Morrowind state rose to his feet letting out a large cough clearing his throat before he would begin. He was a typical specimen of his raise, a tall and proud in stature, his black hair pulled back tight in a pony tail of roughly waist length, his piercing crimson eyes peering around the room before speaking.

"Reports from our scouts indicate a decrease over recent months...We are satisfied with work of our infiltrators and would like to officially offer their services to any other realm that would wish so." He bowed his in graceful respect as he awaited a response.

The response came from a young Bosmer of the Valenwood province. She was youthful for her kind, yet she held the main position of power among her people. Her skin was soft and reflected the light beautifully; heir golden hair framed her face perfectly as its gentle curls lay softly either side of her face. Her beaming green eyes connected with the Dunmer's as her soft voice shakily entered the hall.

"I am Seline Aldreth of the Bosmer...I have taken my father's place on the council due to his unfortunate illness...Unfortunately it is difficult to keep a track of rogue mages in our forests due to its unforgiving nature, and thus would like to accept your offering aid." Her face reddened slightly as she stood there admitting her race's incompetence to track people in their own land.

"As you wish my lady, we shall discuss the arrangements after the meeting." Laven bowed his head as he shot her a warming smile, almost trying to show her support and ease her nerves slightly.

This brief show of support was broken by the bellowing laughter from the Nord platform. A beast of a man rose from his seat, covered in the ritual tattoos of his people and the typical large thick beard. He slammed his hammer like fist down on the desk; the noise caused a few of the statesmen to jump from shock. His tiny black eyes glared over at Seline before turning his attention to the rest of the room.

"It is people like her that are the very reason we are in this mess in the first place! She is unable to keep her own province under watch; I wouldn't be surprised if the biggest stronghold of Mages we have seen lurks in her own forests!" The Nord roared his words spitting as he spoke.

Seline quickly took her seat and lowered her head hoping to lose the attention of the Nord who had obviously taken a disliking to what she had to say. But much to her misfortune his attack had only just begun as he pointed at her.

"See! She turns tail and runs at the first sign of confrontation...She is a disgrace to her noble father's name! I demand that we call a vote of no confidence and have her replaced immediately!" His booming voice continued to tear its way through the echoing halls; it would be no surprise if the people of Skyrim itself couldn't hear him.

The room fell silent; Laven took his seat also in the fear of evoking the wrath of the beast. The hulking Nord continued to look around the room, many of whom he fixed his gaze on began to fidget in discomfort and avert their gaze. Even his own people grew slightly nervous at their leader's obvious anger. This remained the same until finally a voice spoke up from the back of the Imperial quarter. A tall shadow of a man rose from his seat, his face covered by the shadow casted from his deep crimson hood. The light could only pick out the most basic of details; his eyes were a hazel colour as he raised his gaze to the Nord whose composure had altered slightly to a slightly more defensive stance as he now held his arms in front of himself. The Imperial took a few steps forward as he rested his hands on the desk of his people, his piercing eyes fixed entirely on the Nord not showing a single sign of deterrence or worry at all.

"Tell me Vulkhen...Was it not your people who just two summers ago came into this very chamber and requested aid in locating a band of stray of Mages that you yourself had lost?" His voice was precise and had an obvious tone of education and sophistication to it. This comment struck a nerve in the Nord as he shuffled on his feet in an obvious show of being uncomfortable.

"Order!" The Peacekeeper bellowed as he slammed his hammer down on his own desk.

"This is the council halls not the arena...The Dunmer have offered aid to the Bosmer...This is no excuse for senseless bickering!" The Peacekeeper continued to roar as the Imperial took his head again. Vulkhen took this chance for one more cheap shot as he pointed over at the Imperial who had made such a brave stand against him.

"Your kind disgust me...You alone are a disgrace to the Imperial race!" With these last words he slumped back into his seat letting out a futile growl as one of his cohorts leant over and whispered into his ear.

The Imperial man smirked over at both Seline and Laven who each sent back a slightly nervous smile as they bowed in respect. It was clear that his superior wasn't at all pleased with his actions as he turned in seat, frowning as he whispered.

"It would do you well to follow the traditions of these chambers and show respect...Striking a war with those savages will aid no one...Do you understand?" The only response was a simple slow nod and a quirky smile.

"Perhapss...Ssome good newss iss in order...My people have disscovered a fresh ssupply of Dark Light ore not far from our capital...We will begin production as ssoon as possible." Came the hissed voice of an Argonian.

Like his entire race his scaled skin sparkled in the light of the chamber, his raptor like eyes darted around the room as his tongue periodically flicked out. His race was a wiry kind never really growing in size and sticking to a lean stature which made them perfect for their swamp dwelling ways. The Peacekeeper nodded as he made a note of the events of the meeting so far.

"Good news indeed...If that is everything then I declare this meeting closed." The Peacekeeper slammed his hammer down again to signify the end of the meeting.

The room soon erupted into the murmurs as the statesmen began to rise to their feet and make their way from the chamber. Seline remained in her seat as she waited for the lumbering form of the Nord battalion to leave the chamber; one of her assistants lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder and smiled.

"Your father would be proud...Few people are bold enough to face the Nord head on." Seline nodded slightly as she smiled back up to her assistant.

"Thank you." She finally mustered the courage to stand to her feet.

As quickly as it had all begun it all ended. The chamber fell deafly silent as the cold chill slowly filled it again. Only two people had remained behind, a member of the Khajit and the Imperial man who had spoken out against Vulkhen before.

"Update?" The Imperial stood there with his arms folded as the Khajit quickly scanned the area.

"It should be in place by the next full moon cycle." The Imperial nodded as he reached his pale white hand and scratched his chin, he smirked again as his hazel eyes stared off into the distance of the chamber.

"Perfect...Now return to your people...You know what must be done...It is nearly time." He moved his gaze to the Khajit, who quickly nodded and hurried off to rejoin his people.

The Imperial looked around the room again before reaching into the small leather bag hanging at his waist and pulling out a small vial, popping the lid from it he knocked back the entire contents in one go letting out a satisfied sigh as he placed it back into his pouch and made his way to the exit of the chamber as well.


End file.
